Married with Children: A Mile in Those Shoes?
by clockworange
Summary: A strange gift from the D'Arcys causes havoc! Al and Peggy switch bodies, and Kelly and Bud swap bodies as well. How do they adjust to their lives? How can they fix this mess? Story in progress. Rate and review!


Chapter 1 : A Strange Gift from the D'Arcys

"A fat woman earthquaked into the shoe store today," Began Al, taking off his coat and hanging it on a rack next to the front door. Recalling the event from earlier that day, his face screwed up into a grimace. "Asking for a pair of size three heels. So I, in my usual politeness, replied, 'I'm sorry, ma'am, but we only offer human-sized shoes here. If you're looking to get fitted, I'd suggest seeing a blacksmith.' And for some reason that upset her. Can you believe it?"

"Did it really?" Asked Peggy in a monotone voice, keeping her eyes fixed on a television program playing in the background.

Al trudged into the kitchen and opened a cupboard out of habit, knowing it would be empty anyways. "I tell you, Peg, I think women are getting fatter by the day. Except for the ones on TV. It's the best of times and the worst of times, but I just keep seeing the worst of it. And by the way honey, where's my dinner?"

Peg scoffed. It was always the same routine with her husband of 20-plus years. She folded her arms, glanced over at him pathetically, and retorted, "Dear, where's our money?"

Al brushed it away with his hand, groaning to himself. "Maybe if you got a job, we'd have a little more money."

"Wanker women have never worked a day in their lives. It's a family tradition! Besides," She added, reaching over to a nearby tray of bonbons and plucking one into her mouth. "These bonbons aren't going to eat themselves."

"Where would I be without you, Peg?" Sighed Al, plopping himself down on the couch next to his wife. "New York? Los Angeles? Hooters? Seriously, I can think of dozens of places I'd rather be right now!"

"But every day you find your way back home." She cooed, snuggling up close to her husband. She added playfully, "You do love me, don't you?"

Ignoring, or at least appearing to ignore, Peg's reply, Al frowned at the program she was watching on TV. With the one hand not tucked partly in his pants, Al scratched his head and asked, "Why is that man shopping around for women's clothing?"

"That's Rosanne Barr, Al."

"I know, that's why I'm asking!"

Just then the front door opened. It was the youngest in the family, Bud Bundy, returning home from another day at Trumaine University. He had recently moved back into the basement after his fraternity kicked him out. Sporting a measly looking goatee and slicked-up hair, the scrawny young adult paused long enough for the audience's applause to die down.

"Don't all get up at once." Announced Bud, looking over in contempt at his mother and father. They both grunted at his entrance, Peggy too enraptured in her television show and Al lost in another Polk High fantasy to care too much. "Kell wanted me to tell you she'd be out with Skullhead tonight. She'll be back in the morning."

Peggy raised an eyebrow. "Skullhead? Is that the name of a boyfriend or a heavy metal band?"

"It could be the whole band, mom." Grinned Bud, alluding to the promiscuous nature of his good-hearted but dimwitted sister, Kelly Bundy. "After all, the number of boyfriends Kelly has at any one time should be growing exponentially by now."

"Don't talk about your sister that way." Said Al half heartedly. "Say, Bud, do you want to run to the store and pick up some food for dinner?"

Bud chuckled to himself as he walked down into the basement, closing the door behind him. "Hah! Good one, dad."

"Our son, the basement dweller." Remarked Peggy.

"Give him a few years, honey, and he just might upgrade to this couch." Jabbed Al. "He'll inherit my spot after you've killed me."

Peggy pushed against Al playfully, the balding shoe salesman refusing to take his hands out from under the waistline of his pants where they happily rested. She replied, "Oh Al, if I wanted to kill you I'd have done it already."

"Oh, so it's the slow torture then, is it?"

"Funny, that's what I've been calling sex for the past few years. Well, except for the slow part of course. Ha ha."

Al and Peg retreated into their minds once again, becoming quite used to the daily grind of jabs, insults, and retorts. It had become a natural part of their interaction, one that they began to relish as the years went by.

Suddenly, Al turned to his wife as she flicked through the channels on the remote control. "Peg, sometimes I wish you could see yourself right now. If you walked a mile in my shoes, you would appreciate how hard it is to be me."

Peggy snorted. "Al, nothing in the world would get me to walk a mile in your shoes. But if I had to, the first thing I would need afterward would be some foot cream and a long, hot bath."

"Now, that is something I'd expect to hear from you. You've got it easy! Not having to deal with the children, or the neighbors, or..." He shuddered, "selling women's shoes."

"Wait a minute!" She protested, finally tearing her eyes away from the show on TV. "You think this is easy? Unemployment is a full time job, you know! I've got plenty to worry about. When you're away at work, who watches the house? Who takes care of the kids? Who has her own group of friends with events and obligations to carry out?"

Al shrugged. "I don't know. Who?"

"Me, you hairy lump. Your wife."

"Eh, that's so much easier than what I have to go through. I'll bet all the money I have that my life is more difficult than yours."

Peggy rolled her eyes. "All the money you have? So we're talking figuratively, right?" She bobbed her leg up and down. Looking over at the shabby, pot-bellied man that she married in the flower of her youth. "Since we're betting on essentially nothing, and there's no way to prove it, then I accept. My life is way more complicated than yours anyway."

The brief argument was interrupted by the doorbell ringing. Al hefted himself up and looked out the window.

"Oh no, it's the D'Arcy's!" He said to Peggy.

"Quick, turn off the lights and shutter the blinds." She replied, springing up and mincing toward the light switch in the kitchen.

"We know you're in there!" A shrill voice pierced through the other side of the doorway.

Al flinched and opened the door. It was their longtime neighbors, Marcy and Jefferson. Marcy was wearing a double-breasted navy pea coat, leggings, and grey 4-inch pumps. Jefferson wore a black suit and bow tie, slacks, and black oxford shoes. He was holding a rather large gift and stood behind Marcy with a hesitant expression on his face.

"Hello Peggy, Al, just wanted to stop by before we go out this evening." Chirped Marcy. "We saw the cloud of smoke and despair from your Dodge leading into your garage. So we knew you were home!"

"You two look pretty good tonight. Where are you going? The hen house?" Quipped Al, eliciting a brief chuckle from Jefferson before he was silenced by his wife.

She kept a decidedly pleased expression, however, and continued, "No, you Neanderthal, we're going out for a night on the town. It'll be our four-year wedding anniversary in a few days and we wanted to make it a memorable occasion."

"Our fourth anniversary." Echoed Jefferson somberly.

"Quiet, you!" Hushed Marcy, stepping on his foot with her heels as he yelped in pain, nearly dropping the gift he was carrying. "We would stop by and chat, but we've got dinner reservations at _Oakson's_ at seven thirty."

"You got a reservation at _Oakson's_?" Inquired Peggy, getting up and strutting toward the others in curiosity. "I've seen that restaurant featured in my cooking show. It's so romantic! Oh, why can't we ever go there, Al?"

"Because, my red-haired harpy, it's for romantic couples, which we are not."

Marcy brushed past the aside from Al and Peggy, and added, "Since we want this to be a happy evening for as many of those we know as possible, I wanted to give you a gift. As a token of friendship from Jefferson and me. Jefferson!"

Marcy's husband reluctantly extended the gift out to Peggy, which she clutched and shook like a kid at Christmas.

"Thank you, Marcy! That is too kind of you!" But then she grew a more suspicious attitude. Looking at the gift and up at Marcy and back at the gift again. "Okay, what's the angle? What do you want from us?"

Marcy clasped her hands. "Oh, nothing! Nothing at all! We think you'll like this little gift we got you. I guarantee you it is like nothing in the world. Well, we ought to get going now."

"Hey, uh, Al?" Jefferson piped up, "Are we still on for the No Ma'am Regional Convention this weekend?"

Al brushed his arms wildly, but the cat was out of the bag. Marcy turned around and glared at her husband, whose eyes had bulged out in alarm at having revealed the guys' plans for the weekend inadvertently. She placed her hands on her hips. "So that is where you're going, Jefferson! You said your mother was sick in the hospital and you were going to visit her!"

Jefferson cracked a bashful grin. "Well... half of it is true!"

"We'll talk about that later." She bid goodbye to Al and Peggy and spun around, holding Jefferson in tow by the ear. Al closed the door, following Peggy as she set the gift on the coffee table in front of the couch. Not particularly caring about the D'Arcys or their anniversary night out.

A gift was a rarity in the Bundy household, something to be expected during Christmas after squeezing out every nickel from the couch and the Dodge for leftover change that had accumulated over the year. Gifts were never given to a Bundy unconditionally, as Marcy and Jefferson had just done. Yet here it was. A small, cube-shaped box sealed with gift wrap and adorned with cutesy purple ribbons.

"Aren't the D'Arcys wonderful?" Beamed Peggy, shaking the box as if to guess what was inside. Something rattled around with a rhythmic 'thump-thump' sound as Peggy shook it.

Al leaned back on the couch, assuming a more skeptical attitude. "I'll believe it when I see what's inside, Peg. This could be another one of Marcy's tricks. Did you see the look on Jefferson's face?" He watched as Peggy greedily ripped up the pieces of wrapping, opened the cardboard box, and took out some loose stuffing. "Apparently not."

Peggy examined the tiny MacGuffin in her hands. It gave off a strange sheen in the light.

"I don't get it." Said Al, leaning in to inspect the object along with Peggy. She smirked, "What else is new?"

"What are we supposed to do with it? There's no instruction manual. I've never seen anything like it before." He said.

"I don't know, but Marcy seemed excited to give it to us, so it must be valuable." Answered Peggy, turning it over and examining the strange item in her hands. "I guess we'll have to ask her when they return home." She set it on the table and picked up the TV remote.

"I still think it's a joke." Al folded his arms.

Meanwhile, Marcy and Jefferson drove in their Mercedes to the restaurant.

Jefferson shifted uncomfortably in the front passenger seat. Looking over at his wife, he asked, "Marce, do you really think it was a good idea to give that to Al and Peggy?"

"Why not?" Replied Marcy. "If we didn't, then it would still be ours. And you know what that means just as well as I do."

Jefferson grabbed his chest, then ran a hand through his wavy hair. "I know, that thing switches the bodies of the two people closest to it. It happened to us too many times to count over the past week! I'm just glad to be back in my own body."

"Same here." Agreed Marcy. "Not that I didn't enjoy being you, Jefferson. I did! But if I'm going to have any luck fixing the mess you made at Kyoto National Bank, I'm going to need time as myself."

"Yeah," chuckled Jefferson awkwardly. "Sorry about that."

"You're sorry? Sorry that you hit on all of my female coworkers and were caught drinking on the job?" Steamed Marcy. "Lauren Wells hasn't looked at me the same since!"

"But you have to admit, Lauren does have a nice..." Jefferson's voice trailed off, seeing that he was digging himself into a deeper hole with every word.

"That's enough, Jefferson!" Shrilled Marcy, briefly taking her hands off the wheel to smack her husband upside the head. "The only redeeming quality this week has been the sex. If it wasn't for that, you'd find yourself kicked to the curb right now, mister!"

Jefferson wanted to keep his mouth shut and focus on the dinner, but he couldn't resist. "So will you tell me, Marcy, now that it's gone? Where did you ever find that magical object?"

"I found it in one of the depositors' vaults at the bank." Explained Marcy, keeping her eyes on the road. "It belonged to an old man who hadn't contacted the bank in years. Apparently, he died in the late 1970s, and a simple accounts check revealed he had no next of kin. Usually assets of the deceased go to the government for auction or disposal if there's nobody left to claim it. But, I decided to look through his old possessions and found that thing. It wouldn't be missed anyway, so why not take it?"

"Why not take it." Repeated Jefferson, shaking his head. "Maybe it was there for a reason, Marce."

"Well, it's not like anyone is missing it!" She snapped. "And now it's out of our hair and no longer our problem to deal with."

"Thank God for that." He sighed. "I just hope the Bundys know what's in store for them."

It was 1:00 in the morning by the time Kelly arrived back in the neighborhood. A motorcycle carrying two riders skidded to a stop in front of the driveway and parked alongside a silver Mercedes. Kelly dismounted from her ride and shook her hair which had blown about wildly during the ride home. She ran her fingers through her dyed platinum-blonde strands and adjusted her denim miniskirt. She shivered from the night breeze and tip-toed up to the front door, motioning for her date to kiss her goodbye.

The date in question was more than willing to abide, as he hastily threw up the kick stand, lumbered over to his attractive but underdressed date, and picked her up as easily as a toothpick, leaning her against the front door and pressing his body into hers, his studded leather jacket pressing against her tube top.

"Ow! My hair." Kelly yipped. "Not so hard!"

Skullhead gave a stupid toothy grin, letting her down and running his hands over her curvaceous body. "Funny, you weren't saying that an hour ago."

Kelly blushed, straightening out her skirt and top and checking the windows inside the house. "Shhh! You'll wake up my family."

Skullhead took the cue and spoke in a quieter tone of voice. "So, uh..." He took out a slip of paper and ran his eyes over it, "... Kelly... when can we do this again?"

"Anytime just not now." She said, ushering him back to his motorbike with her hands. "I'm serious, if my parents catch me out with someone like you again I'm totally busty."

"What do they have to worry about, babe? I'm a trustworthy guy."

Kelly laughed, placing her hands on his shoulders and standing on her tiptoes to kiss him. "That's not what the district attorney said."

"Aww, what does that prude know?" He smirked. "My arraignment is next week, wanna meet up before then?"

"You know it! See ya!" Waved Kelly goodbye, as he mounted his motorcycle and sped off into the darkness, burning out of the driveway and leaving a skidded tire track in its wake.

She then bent over to check under the doormat for a house key, but was dismayed to find it missing. Did she forget to put it back last time? It should have been right beneath the metal engraving of the address, 9764 Jeopardy Lane.

Wait a minute. The address here wasn't 9764 Jeopardy Lane. It was 9766 Jeopardy Lane. Which could only mean that...

"Kelly? What are you doing at the D'Arcy's house?" A familiar voice called out from the side yard. It was her brother Bud, who had evidently stayed awake long enough to wait for Kelly to get back home. He was dressed in a loose-fitting wool shirt, sweatpants, and socks.

Finally realizing that Skullhead dropped her off at her neighbor's house by accident, she tried to play it off. "Nothing, you little night elf."

"You forgot which house was ours again, didn't you Kell?"

"These houses all look the same! You would know too if you ever went outside." Kelly strutted over to their actual home and sneaked inside with Bud. The lights were dim and emanated from the basement, where Bud was still very much awake.

"By the way, what are you doing up so late?" Probed Kelly, suspecting that there was something sinister about the smug expression on her brother's face. "Has your little dungeon run out of cheese puffs and zit cream?"

Bud laughed but otherwise kept a straight face.

"Okay little bro, tell me. You're up to something, I can smell it. And it doesn't smell good."

"Alright Kell, take a look at this over here." He guided her over to the table in front of the couch where the MacGuffin stood. The figurine gleamed in the darkness of the room despite there not being any direct light source. They sat down, Bud with his legs splayed apart and Kelly's legs tucked neatly into each other.

"Ooh, that's amazing..." She clicked her tongue sarcastically. "Seriously, what is it?"

"A gift from the D'Arcy's," Explained Bud, turning on a light, picking it up in his hands and inspecting it closely. "But more importantly, this is a magic idol of some kind. I remember my Ancient Mythologies professor talking about something like this last semester."

His older sister raised her eyebrows in intrigue. "What else did she say about it?"

Bud shrugged. "I don't know, I only remember that she mentioned it in class one day."

"So is it valuable or not?"

"How am I supposed to know, Kell? Do I look like Encyclopedia Brown to you?"

"Nah, you come across more like a 'Pimple-Popper-B' to me!" She chuckled, patting her brother on the shoulder as he looked daggers at her. She got up, stretched her arms, and yawned lazily. "Maybe you could use it to wish for a better body, or a girlfriend not made out of plastic. Ha ha! Well, this was fun. I'm off to bed. G'night!"

Bud's face flushed at her comment. Following her to the stairs, he retorted quietly, "Yeah, well, maybe you could wish for a brain! Or greater self-awareness than a Playboy bunny!"

Kelly slammed the door shut, which might have woken up Peggy had it not been for the sonorous rumbling of Al's nose, sawing away at this late hour of night. The matriarch of the household wore earplugs tonight, so neither could hear their children carrying on about the MacGuffin.

Bud trudged down the stairs and headed to the basement. Muttering to himself, he scratched his head and looked over his scrawny arms and torso. "Wish for a better body?' Pah! The girls at school just don't know what they're missing. And they are missing out, all right..."

He rolled up his sleeve and flexed a bicep. A woman in the audience cheered out as Bud continued to march proudly into his parents' basement.

After the four Bundys had retired for the night and fallen asleep, there was one member of the household left unaccounted for. Buck, the age-worn Briard, had watched the Bundy family from beside his empty dog bowl. Resting on his haunches on the living room carpet, he sniffed at the empty bowl and blinked.

_What's a dog gotta do to get a little food around here? I can't remember the last time I've eaten. Gee, I wonder if this is what Ethiopians feel like during a regime change?_

Buck padded over to the coffee table where the MacGuffin still stood. He saw a brightness that was entirely inconsistent with the darkness of the room. It must have had its own energy source of some kind.

_Oh, look at that. Maybe I could hold this for ransom until those humans fill up my bowl. God, I'm becoming as desperate as an aging Brat Pack member looking for work. This sucks!_

He opened his jaws and clutched the item in his mouth. He then dashed into the backyard, dug up a hole in the fresh dirt, and dropped the glowing thing into the ground. He kicked his paws until enough soil had covered up the hole, then returned back inside the house.


End file.
